


After He's Gone

by Hawkeye733



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And just generally kind of dark, Angst, F/M, Mild Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye733/pseuds/Hawkeye733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan's curse was stopped and in the same moment Belle's world was turned upside down. Belle wonders only one thing: What can life be like without her true love when they only just found each other again? And will she do anything to see him again?<br/>Continuing straight on from the mid-season finale, Belle has to return home alone. Still, what if when she gets there she finds something to hope for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This wasn’t happening. Belle stared at the empty space in front of her. Through the tears hazing her vision she could see the others moving around her and knew the spell holding them in place had been broken. Meaning Pan was gone. They were gone. No willpower left and no binding spell meant there was nothing to keep her from falling to the ground, her body reacting where her mind had not yet caught up. It was grey, everything was grey and slow and meaningless.

Rumple was dead.

The spell had broken, meaning she hadn’t just imagined it and there was no way to avoid it. He was gone. Had that been out loud? She didn’t know. There was a ringing in her head that was blocking out all other noise around her. As suddenly as it had begun the noise stopped dead, leaving her head ringing and her body numb and empty. Everything was centred around the spot in front of her, where he had last stood.

Numbly she focused on that spot on the ground, burning the image of him standing there into her brain in desperation, willing Rumple to just be there again. To come back to her.

Then someone was rubbing her back, pulling her to her feet. She tried to push them away, they were breaking her focus when she could almost see him there, just out of reach, a black and white flicker of the man she couldn’t imagine being without. The person trying to move Belle stepped in front of her then, forced her to break eye contact. She moved to look around them but the illusion was gone, the echoes of his reflection had been shattered and Belle looked at the face of the person in front of her now.

David. He was saying something and urging her to her feet. Now that she had lost her point of focus she was quite easily lifted and ushered by an arm linked with hers into walking briskly along the street. Uncomprehending of what was going on, she staggered to keep up. She tried to look back again to that spot in the middle of the road. It dared to look exactly the same as it ever had. Like a road junction - black tarmac, white lines.

She had to look forwards again because they weren’t slowing down at all. David put his arm around her and he might have said something. His lips moved but she wasn’t sure, the white noise had returned to fill her head again. She couldn’t cope with this incessant flickering between the two.

They passed Town Hall and more people joined them. David passed her on to someone else – Baelfire – while he addressed the townspeople. Belle looked up at Bae, he returned the gaze and she saw the expression in his eyes. She wondered if she looked as empty.

Gradually things began to filter through the buzz of her brain. While she wasn’t focused on any one thing she tuned in to parts of conversations around her that she knew something big was happening. The curse – Pan’s curse - was still coming but the Mayor had some way to stop it.

At the end of Main Street a few of them were getting into cars. Belle looked up to see the familiar sign on the yellow slatted shop – Gold’s Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer. She flew off Bae’s arm and was stepping into the shop before she realised she had moved. She walked through to the back room, feet and brain apparently running on two different tracks. The floor was a mess, a cabinet smashed and scattered across the room – all meaningless details. She swept more things off shelves and tossed them out of cabinets until her hands closed around the item they were looking for. Using the edge of the counter she snapped the head off Mr Gold’s cane and dropped the stick among the mess on the floor.

Hand clenched in a fist around the object now hidden in her pocket she stepped outside again. No one made any suggestion that they noticed she had gone – obviously bigger things were going on than her grief-stricken actions. Still, when she stepped next to Bae he immediately closed the distance and took her hand, squeezing briefly but keeping his eyes on the ground. Then they were getting into the back of Regina’s car and driving down the road out of Storybrooke.

>><<<>>><<<>>><<

When the green smoke of the curse cleared from everyone’s faces they found themselves standing in a courtyard, imposing stone walls on all sides. A gasp of happiness from Snow confirmed Belle’s suspicions – they were right back in the kingdom the curse had been cast on. This must be Snow White and Prince Charming’s castle.

She shifted her tight grip on the metal in her pocket, reassuring herself it had made the journey with them.

As everyone around them recovered from the journey between worlds and realised they had been successfully returned home a chorus of shouts and laughter began, echoes ricocheting around the bailey and engulfing the group in chaotic noise. Belle almost cringed at the tone jarring with the sombre mood settled over the small crowd around her - those who had been gathered at the Storybrooke town border.

Dejectedly, David spoke up. “I think we should get inside, check everything is liveable in there.” Snow nodded and waved at their quiet band to follow. They gratefully left the others to their merrymaking and headed for the palace gates, behind them entering a grand parlour - the few ornaments and surfaces gleaming as if the palace servants had been polishing them just hours ago. If Regina was right about the curse  they probably had.

Once inside they passed several warm looking rooms with sunlight and laughter pouring in through the windows - all the signs of a glorious day. Instead their party headed to an inner room with no windows and settled themselves in chairs around the unlit fireplace. It felt cold. Belle sat with the others for almost an hour while they tried to find things to say to each other – for the most part they were lost in their own personal thoughts. Finally she couldn’t take it any longer and rose to her feet. Snow White looked up in surprise at the movement but her eyes softened the moment she met Belle’s gaze. Belle held up her hands to ward off any attempts Snow might make to say ‘the right thing’.

“If it’s not a problem, may I please take a carriage?” Belle said without deliberation. Snow looked taken aback for a moment.

“I don’t think travelling anywhere this soon would be a good idea.” she said tactfully, taking time over her words to try and get them through to Belle. When she saw that Belle was on the verge of retorting Snow continued hastily “We don’t know for sure that everything is just as it was when we left. It was a curse after all.” She knew that warnings of the side effects of magic would not be lost on Belle.

“Won’t you at least stay here tonight, Belle? It’ll be dark within the hour anyway.” David offered placatingly and Belle sighed. She wasn’t going anywhere with the husband and wife teamed against her. As soon as she accepted this she felt an indescribable weariness sink over her. Her limbs felt so heavy she only wanted to be alone to sleep, to escape in unconsciousness to any place that wasn’t here.

She looked at Snow again, this time the careful veneer of determination she had kept up all day dropped, allowing the pain she couldn’t deny any longer to show through. “Then is there a room I can go to?” she asked weakly and in seconds Snow was next to her, arms around her as she gently turned her out of the room back to the great staircase. The corridors she walked through passed in a blur, making the palace seem endless and foreign. She yearned for the castle she knew, with its passages and corners she felt she could still navigate with her eyes closed. She was shown to a room and told to make herself comfortable with anything from the wardrobe full of clothes and nightdresses.

When she was finally alone she didn’t pause before climbing into the bed and curling into a ball beneath the covers, back turned on the empty expanse of the other side of the huge bed. She cried herself to sleep, fingers reaching for the cane handle she had taken from her coat pocket and put on the table next to the bed. At this moment it was the only physical thing she had left of him.

>><<<>>><<<>>><<

The next day Belle was up and ready to leave when the sun first began to shine through the window and spilled across her neatly made bed. She had not slept easily, woken regularly by the noise of merriment in the streets below – huge celebrations from the people oblivious, or wilfully ignorant, to the sorrow that surrounded their return home.

Dressed in one of the warmer gowns she found in the wardrobe that Snow had told her to help herself to, she stepped out into the corridor. She heard the noise of someone else moving behind one of the other doors but didn’t wait to see which one.

Carefully picking her way along the corridors she had more time to study the decorations. It had a quainter style than the Dark Castle, Belle smiled when she thought of Mary Margaret’s style. Clearly the curse hadn’t changed everyone completely. Following the sound of voices she found herself back at the top of one of the staircases and from there was able to navigate to the source of the voices - the kitchen.

“Belle?” Neal’s voice caught her out. She had only been planning to find Snow and thank her for the hospitality. However, she sighed, taking a moment before walking into the room to be met with the slightly warmer faces of Neal, Captain Hook and Leroy who, unlike most of the other dwarves, had not joined in the party but had followed them inside.

“We figured if no one else was up we could manage to find ourselves something to eat.” Leroy said and stepped aside to reveal a sizeable breakfast spread of bacon, eggs, bread, cheeses and fruits. It was much more extravagant than the pancakes and fruit loops she had become accustomed to back in Storybrooke. Still, she smiled at the men for their efforts and opened her mouth to ask whether the queen had been down.

It was that moment Snow walked in and Belle saw her expression quickly change from one of greeting to shocked surprise when she spotted the table behind the dwarf.

They took out plates, Belle noticed that even in her castle filled with servants, Snow still knew where everything was kept - and loaded plates with food. Belle joined them, the smell of the food making her realise she hadn’t eaten anything since a hurried breakfast the day before. Still, she knew that wasn’t the cause of the aching emptiness inside her and she couldn’t bring herself to do much more than taste the food in front of her.

Snow broke into the companionable quiet that existed at the table, “So Charming is planning an announcement for the people this morning before they all start...”

“Leaving?” Belle cut her off, trying to make the word sound less pointed than it was. The others’ eyes flicked up to her simultaneously but only Snow held the eye contact.

“Yes, exactly.” She recovered well, “Everyone will be heading back to their own homes but we feel we have to warn them about the possible dangers, most of them we probably haven’t even anticipated.” Snow was business-like as she discussed the possible plans and safety measures, efficient and organised. In this kitchen in the servants quarters, sat at an old wooden table, Belle could suddenly see the kind ruler, the real Queen Snow White that had been hidden in Mary Margaret while they had been in Storybrooke. Obviously just being home again was already helping her find herself and Belle yearned for that to be a possibility.

Snow was also very good at keeping everything moving so that the time was verging on midday when Belle finally managed to get out of Snow’s sight to request a carriage be prepared for her. She knew the young queen was only trying to be helpful and was probably trying to do what she thought was best – only she seemed to be missing out on the fact that all Belle wanted was to be out from her undeservedly irritating eye. There was a feeling in the back of her mind that she had to get to Rumple’s castle, that’s where she should be and every moment she was delayed in the palace the stronger the feeling grew.

Once a carriage was being set up she went into the palace again and found Charming within minutes. He was in deep conversation with Regina, obviously still planning his address. He looked up to see Belle and quickly smiled, waving away Regina.

“I was just coming to thank you for your kindness and hospitality. I’ve organised a carriage.” Belle began quickly.

“You want to go right now? I’ve sent word to gather people in the courtyard. I think we’ve given them enough time to recover.” He began to smile at the idea of how they might feel after their extravagance. “Are you sure I can’t…” He started but trailed off as he picked up on the determined expression on the young woman’s face.

“I should be able to make good time if everyone is gathered here for your speech.” His face fell slightly as he realised her point.

“You want to make the mountain pass before it gets dark.” He sounded resigned to her use of logic against him. “Are you sure that’s where you want to be right now?” He added in a softer voice.

“David, it’s the only place I can be right now.” She said just as gently and he nodded.

“I’ll find Snow, let her see you off.”

“Oh no, don’t bother her. There are much more important things you need to be doing right now.” She said. Once again Charming tried to find something to rebuff her with but finally nodded and smiled sadly.

“Just take care. You don’t know what might be up in those mountains.” He wasn’t just talking about ogres and they both knew it. Rumplestiltskin would not leave his castle unprotected, even if he had been locked in a dungeon when they had last been in the Enchanted Forest.

Before she realised what was happening Charming had reached forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He said and after a moment she reached up and held on to him.

“And I yours.” With a final squeeze, Charming slowly released her. He gave a quick nod and then she was free to go.

She strode out the castle, not letting herself be stopped by any more distractions. Then the carriage was away, trundling along the cobbled streets of the town, passing only a few stragglers hurrying along to the Royal Castle.

The journey was anticlimactic, there was no trouble on the road and even the snow storms at the top of the mountain pass were relatively subdued. She passed through the gates at the entrance to the grounds of the Dark Castle and felt a sharp prickling up the back of her neck. It did nothing more and she realised that it must have been caused by the wards.

She wasn’t sure if that was because they had worn off – even though she knew Rumple wouldn’t be that careless – or if he had made an exception in them for her, despite thinking her dead at the time. She tried not to think about it but a sudden lump rose in her throat and her eyes blurred.

They had made such good time she didn’t feel bad about sending the coachman back down to the Royal Kingdom. He stayed long enough to make sure she got through the doors alright and wasn’t blown back by some enchantment and then he practically bolted. Belle didn’t care – in fact she was relieved to finally be alone. She could envelop herself in the feeling of being back again. It was so long since she had been here – more than 30 years in fact – but she remembered some of her happiest moments here and could almost sense Rumple just sitting through the next door, his wheel spinning away.

At that thought she threw herself through the double doors into the spinning room. It was empty, obviously and yet she felt a sharp pang run through her, like there was something that had been ripped out from inside her. As she walked across the floor small swirls of dust spun up from the draught of her skirt. Whether there had been a stasis spell or not, she knew Rumple had not cleaned since she had left.

A dull noise came from somewhere through the next corridor and Belle flinched dramatically, only just noticing the hollow silence that had been disturbed. She straightened her shoulders and reached for the strange looking axe hung on the wall – one of many items she had cleaned many times over.

Quietly walking around the whole castle she heard nothing more and finally she ended up in the highest tower room – the library Rumple had once surprised her with.

A book lay open on the table, obviously left out after it had imparted a last piece of wisdom. Tears welled on her eyelashes as she walked over to the book, fondly reaching out to tidy up after her beloved one last time. She glanced at the page inattentively and then drew her hand back into her as if stung. The words across the top of the page stood out bold and strong:

**For Returning What Has Been Taken From You**


	2. Empty Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding a book in the Dark Castle, could this spell be exactly what Belle needs?

Belle stared in disbelief at the words on the page. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. She instinctively looked over her shoulder at the rest of the room, trying to identify who could be playing a prank on her. She looked back at the words on the page and traced a finger down the list of instructions, pausing when she reached the description of the final item.

_'an object closest to the item intended to be retrieved, the connection must be a strong one.’_

Belle frowned and slipped a hand into her pocket where the weight of the cane handle still rested. She traced a finger along the carvings on its surface, confused for a moment as to why exactly she had taken that, of all the items in the shop.

Struck by a sudden purpose, she grabbed the book from the table and held it under her arm as she scurried down the staircase. She was heading to the potions room, where Rumple had kept all of his supplies, when she reached the bottom of the staircase and was looking through the doorway at the spinning wheel once again. She walked into the room, circling the table and replaced the axe she still held on to, the habit of keeping things neat while Rumple carried on obliviously was ingrained in her. She turned to carry on with her task and for the first time noticed the column at the top of the room.

A distinct change from the old ornamentation caught her eye – a gaudy grail that used to sit atop the podium and matched the rich décor that Rumple generally preferred had been replaced. In its place sat the item she least expected to be there. Looking at her small chipped cup in pride of place in the room, Belle gasped down a sudden sob in the crushing realisation that Rumple truly had spent his last years in the Enchanted Forest believing he had sent her to her death.

Now his tribute to her was the last act he had to share. It felt like a physical grip around her throat as a simultaneous trickle raised goosebumps along her arms. She stumbled forwards, fingers reaching out to gently trace the rim of the cup. As she made the movement the book that had been forgotten slipped from the grip under her arm. She followed it to the ground, grasping out to catch it, and ended up kneeling over the tome, face in her hands and fought to prevent everything from overwhelming her. Now was not the time.

Biting back the emotions, she centred herself again, using the book and her task ahead as the anchor to stop the tide of grief taking her away. Her head stopped spinning and the black wall that had been building in front of her vision abated to find her gripping the book tightly in both hands, nails starting to dig into the leather binding.

She climbed to her feet, this time using a glance at their cup to give her strength, then she continued on into the potions room.

Unlike everywhere else in the Dark Castle - which held many haphazard piles of miscellaneous items Belle was convinced were only supported by magic – the collections of various ingredients and implements kept in this room were perfectly in order. Almost obsessively so, she noted, as a line of different feathers laid out according to size caught her eye.

She laid the book on the table and carefully flicked through the musty pages to find the correct place. Then she set about gathering the items she needed, starting with the solid heavy cauldron she had only ever seen Rumple use a couple of times for some of the larger spells he had needed. In the neatly organised room she had no problem finding everything, following the instructions in the book precisely in a purposeful flurry of action.

It was as she collected the final three ingredients that she paused to consider the possible implications her actions may entail. The words she had heard so many times now echoed in her head in such a way she wasn’t sure how she could have let herself get this far in without considering it.

“Magic always comes at a price”

Clear and simple – Belle had seen the words come back to haunt too many people who had thought they were just the warning of a foul imp trying to keep his magic to himself. Even as she pondered the cautionary words that repeated in her head she found herself reaching for another ingredient. Hemlock root, ground and added to the cauldron with a stir. Only two ingredients to go.

She felt slightly nauseous when she allowed her mind to wander a little further on its path, considering the prices some people had been made to pay. She saw the face of a woman who had come to Rumple one day, begging that he save her son from illness. Rumple had warned her as he always did and she had scoffed, saying no creature like him could understand that she would give anything to save her child. Belle remembered the woman’s screeching cries the next day; she beat her hands raw against the door, snarling at Rumple that it was all his fault her husband had died. Rumple had gone on spinning, the solemn look on his face warning Belle not to disturb him.

She stood in the middle of the potions room, hands clenched into fists at her sides as she struggled with the conflicting thoughts in her head. She glared at the cauldron as if she could use the pure force of her will to make the magic do what she needed it to without it backfiring on her. Until now she had never even wanted to try magic before and she told herself she couldn’t do it, that she needed him here to guide her.

Why was it so difficult? Her heart was screaming at her to go on and her brain was telling her not to. She had always prided herself on being smart and using her head. Now all she could feel was that her head was wrong. Rebelliously she grabbed the vial of green solvent that had filtered through a small set of glass tubes she had arranged earlier. She stared at it for a couple of seconds as it idly swirled in cloudy patterns.

She poured it in. One ingredient left.

She was being a fool. This was dangerous and reckless. She didn’t even truly know what the potion was for – it didn’t have any helpful explanation at the top of the page. All she knew was that as soon as she had seen it she had felt something, like someone grabbing her gut and it had stopped her in her tracks. It had called to her and it had felt right, while everything else in this place still seemed jarring to her.

She felt shaky – this wasn’t her. She always made sure she knew what she was doing, or she told herself that. She remembered her fear when she had gone to face the beast of Mulan’s kingdom and she had ended up saving the day. She had quivered the first time she had called out the Dark One on some quip he had made and had him turn his eyes on her, freezing her in place as she panicked,  preparing herself for what he might do. Then he had smirked, muttering “Yes, yes. That too.”

His soft words boldly stood out in her mind. She remembered all of him, how he had stood watching her while she resumed her task, still wary but pleased that she had seen a glimpse of a man, not a beast, in the figure before her. Her eyes snapped open and she blinked when she found she wasn’t in the front room as Rumplestiltskin watched her, amused smirk still in place. Instead the cauldron hissed and the fire beneath it crackled.

In that moment a steeled resolve took a hold of her. She could have him back and it was so close she could almost hear him. She looked to the book and read through the last few lines of the procedure again. On the table next to it lay the handle of the cane and once again she felt it was the correct interpretation of the text – an object that is closest to that which is missing.

She figured that could mean close in purpose or in value but she wasn’t trying to bring back any old missing trinket. She needed someone and that would surely call for a stronger connection than anything. She had been in that other realm of Storybrooke long enough to read a thing or two about their sciences and she knew that the contact Rumple had with the cane would have left DNA. If she understood it correctly that was as close as she could get to it actually being him.

The potion was now bubbling and oozing out a slow swish of motion within the pot. She gave it a last swirl, releasing a strange smell almost like a smoky incense. Then she released the cane handle into the murky substance.

She heard the clunk of the metal hitting the base of the cauldron and a vague ringing resounded from the pot. It grew steadily louder until she could feel it through the soles of her boots and pressing in around her on the air. The potion began to move more thickly, slumping from side to side in the bowl and giving off a dark red steam.

All the while Belle tried to concentrate on her final part to play – an extra ingredient in the mix or her own final interpretation. She folded her arms to herself and thought of how Rumplestiltskin had made her feel, she prayed for him to come back because how else could she stay here in this castle, in this kingdom without him. She sent her desperate plea into the rafters of the small room along with the thickening haze of smoke seeping from the cauldron. Into the rising haze she threw her love.

The potion evaporated, drawn up as the smoke that filled the room and formed a dark whirlpool around her head. She could feel it crackling with energy and then she began to hear it, sighing with words she couldn’t make out but she knew with all her heart meant he was coming back. They had found a way.

Windswept by the gale, she felt the magic like it was being drawn through her and he was whispering for her to keep talking, tell him how she needed him and give him the light to follow back home. And Belle gave it all, she talked and she felt it plucking at her emotions, wisping the feelings away.

A clunk from the cauldron jerked her back down to her senses and she looked around wildly. There was nothing different except the potion had drained away completely, the smoke now dissipating as if it had never been there. Confused and trying not to be disappointed by the fact her Rumple wasn’t standing next to her right now she stepped forward and glanced into the empty cauldron.

Only it wasn’t empty. Metal glinted at her from the bottom and she frowned in confusion. The cane handle had clearly had an effect when she dropped it in – it had kicked off the whole whirlpool reaction – so why was it still lying there. She reached down to grab it and instead jumped back when something sharp sliced her finger. Shocked, she picked it out gingerly, realising something was very odd when her hands closed around a leather bound handle.

She gave a soft cry of confusion when she lifted it enough to look at the ornate lettering along the dagger blade, spelling out Rumplestiltskin.

Shaking her head, brows furrowed, Belle stood staring at the blade of the Dark One. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Thoughts flew through her head, trying to explain why he wasn’t here. Why would the spell have brought the knife instead of him? At the same time every sense was alert, straining for a sign that maybe Rumple was about to stride through the door, cocky grin in place.

The candles lighting the room threw reflections off the shining metal blade and she looked at it again, suddenly dumbstruck. The printed letters across the front of it were as bold as they ever had been. Rumplestiltskin.

The dagger showed the name of whoever wielded its power.

If it wasn’t blank, then there must still be a bond. He had to be alive! Somewhere or somewhen but if he was still there then she would see him again. A surge of hope rushed through her like an electric bolt and she cried out in joy. All the fears that had been threatening to rise up when the spell didn’t seem to have worked were swept away.

Her natural reaction was to turn and share her joy, to laugh and dance with someone but only the cold walls of the castle greeted her sweeping gaze. She blinked quickly, the grin falling slightly from her lips but the same energy pushed her to extinguish the fire under the cauldron, grab the spell book and confidently stride out the room.

She took the book through to the spinning room - she knew it was ridiculous but that was where she felt closest to Rumple. Somehow it seemed like if she felt more connected with him, it would help find his way back to her.

She sat at the table, placed the knife delicately next to the book and flicked to the front page for the first time. It had brought her this far through the puzzle, so it made sense to check if it held the next piece.

It wasn’t until Belle saw the first light of pre-dawn creeping through the glass that she  realised what time it must be. The birds of the dawn chorus made her realise that she had been staring at the same page for quite some time, brow furrowed but mind caught in an elsewhere she had already forgotten. With a couple of trips up to the library, selecting books with likely sounding names and carrying an armful back down to the dayroom, she had read completely through the night.

Realising it would be best to go to sleep now and come back to continue her research when sleep wasn’t beckoning quite so temptingly, Belle marked the page in the very dull text she had been reading and pushed her chair back.

She could feel the haze of sleep fogging her mind more and more and she turned to go. Out of a strongly ingrained habit, or wishful thinking, she turned to look at the spinning wheel. That corner of the room looked dark and still. She looked at the knife, in her mind it was the closest link to say goodnight to. Her heart leapt into her mouth.

She scrambled forwards to grab the knife, to try and prove that what she was seeing was a trick of the light. It was not.

The R had almost completely disappeared in the time she had been  sat at the table. The carving on the dagger - and her only connection to Rumple - was fading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you're still enjoying it.  
> Mny thanks to the viewers and kudos-ers, you all keeps me smiling and writing  
> See you soon with chapter 3


	3. Empty Dreams

Since she had realised that the knife was fading, taking with it her chances of bringing Rumple back, Belle had been spurred on with a jolt of agitated determination. It had now been a few hours and she was closing on the end of a third heavy tome that had started with a promising title and some snippets of potentially useful notes she had spotted on a first, brief flick through but had ended with her frustration that it couldn’t give her anything that she was actually looking for.

She finally reached the last page, annoyed that it had been another fruitless waste of time and closed the book with a testy snap. She jumped when a tittering laugh came from the end of the table and froze in alarm when she saw the impossible.

Rumple was perched against the end of the table, looking at her with an amused smile on his face and arms nonchalantly crossed over his chest. She stared at him, unable to find words to express everything that flew through her head in that moment.

At her silence and clearly amused by the bewildered expression on her face, Rumple only smiled more. Belle stood slowly and was just stumbling out a few noises that were meant to include “How? What? Where? And When?” but Rumple simply looked her in the eye with a sincere expression to cut her off.

“Belle, I’m so proud of you.”

She felt his voice wash over her like a calming draught she hadn’t realised she was so in need of.

“I didn’t think it had worked. Nothing happened before.” She gasped, afraid to even blink in case he would be gone again when she reopened her eyes.

“And yet, I know you can do it.”

“But it brought the knife back and then I thought I was losing you all over again.” She babbled and her voice cracked. Instead of talking she needed to feel him there and so she pushed past her chair, moving towards him gently in case any sudden movements would break the spell that had fallen thickly over the room. As she drew near him however, Rumple drew back.

She looked at him in confusion. She was unbelievably happy to see him but something wasn’t right. Why would he pull away from her? His strange choice of words suddenly replayed in her head and the smile that had been growing on her face slid away in a second.

“And it didn’t work, did it.” It wasn’t a question because she had already figured out the answer; instead it came out a miserable quiver.

“No, but it will. You’ll make it work.” He began stepping away again and she jumped forward after him, not willing to let him leave yet.

“Rumple no. I can’t do it without you. I don’t know how.” She reached out to him again and this time he didn’t recoil. Instead he also reached his hand back towards hers and in the briefest second she saw the expression on his face mirror hers in its yearning for more. His fingers were so close to hers she could almost believe she could feel him, the lightest of touches.

“My Belle.”

She jerked to a sitting position, hands scrambling in an undignified manner for the person she knew was supposed to be there, hadn’t he just been here? Slowly her breathing returned to normal and Belle realised she had been asleep. It had all been a dream. Still, she looked to the end of the table and her face crumpled when she found herself alone once more.

She began to feel guilty for falling asleep when she had something so important to be working on but quickly the rational side of her brain kicked in. It was ridiculous to push herself so hard, when a sleep-deprived brain was only more likely to miss something important. Belle decided to do the sensible thing and walked away to get some sleep, leaving her book open at the page she had fallen asleep on.

As she walked up the back staircase that led to the bedrooms she found a small smile breeze across her face. She heard echoes in her head of all the times she had told Rumple off for not looking after himself properly. He didn’t need to sleep often but he would insist on going until he was running on what Belle could only assume had been magical fumes and she had dogged him until he relented and would allow her to send him to bed.

She told herself that Rumple would be scolding her in return now, joking that it was a case of “Do as I say, not as I do”. His teasing tones made her chuckle to herself and with the lighter feeling hearing his voice brought her she found it easier to walk across the threshold into his bedroom.

The room was one she hadn’t even considered entering since she got back, she had idly thought she would return to the small bedroom that had only been used when Rumple had quietly suggested she could move out of the cold cell in the dungeon. Now walking into the familiar dark room felt like the most natural thing and a lightheaded laugh came out of her at the absurdity of thinking of going anywhere else. She climbed into the bed and gratefully fell under the shroud of sleep.

><<<>>><<<>>><<

When she woke the light was fading outside so she figured she had had around 5 hours of sleep. It hadn’t been particularly restful but there had been no more dreams. She had tossed and turned yet now that she had opened her eyes to see the waning light she felt completely alert

As she climbed out of the bed she found herself wishing for an instant coffee machine, the first time she had found herself missing that world. Now she stopped to think about it, there were many everyday things she was going to have to readjust to living without. She was just thinking of going downstairs to start heating up a kettle of water for tea when her gaze wandered around the room.

In her fatigued state she had simply accepted the room to be as it had always looked. Now she looked around she saw a couple of slight changes that hadn’t registered before. Intrigued by the differences she couldn’t quite put her finger on and telling herself that investigating could be helpful in her task she pulled the covers aside and started to look around more attentively.

As Rumple had never spent any time in here the room was very sparse, there was nothing out on the surfaces around the room, a single candle that had never been lit but was in a small candle holder on the bedside table.

She smiled fondly at the fact the curtains were neatly drawn back – she had worked hardest to make him remove the nails from them in here. His argument had been “But whenever I’m in here I want them to be closed anyway.” When she finally pulled them back anyway she had been very sure that he still didn’t agree with her sentiment that it was “nice to let the light in during the day”.

Slowly the ties around the curtains drew her attention. They were new. She raised her eyebrows in surprise at the addition. Homemaking was hardly a Rumplestiltskin trait. Nevertheless she pushed the thought to the edge of her mind, ignoring the bittersweet smile that threatened to reach her lips when she considered the only reason he may have tried to spruce. She continued her search of the room more thoroughly. There were no items in the drawers, none at all. She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself; the settling in had purely been an aesthetic attempt.

Once she had exhausted the possibilities in the room she turned to go and had another jolt of surprise as she saw a single picture frame on the wall next to the door. She looked more closely at it and was torn between whether to laugh or cry in despair when she realised there was no picture in it, simply an elegant golden frame, as if it was too much effort to find a picture to put in it. Or it was too difficult to find something suitable.

She turned out into the corridor, deciding that she was going to investigate what food there was available in the kitchen before anything else and ended up almost bumping into him. She jumped back before she actually collided with Rumple and stood rooted to the floor, mouth gaping in surprise, a feeling she was getting a little too used to experiencing since she had returned to the castle.

“Now Dearie, I always thought you had a little more grace than that.” He said in a teasing tone and it almost snapped her back to herself. She snapped her mouth shut but then her mind started working in overtime, as it often did.

“No, you’re not really here. I’m just dreaming again and I don’t realise it.”

“Well, I expected a better welcome than that.” He continued when she paused only to study him again, drinking in the sight before her.

“I’m doing my best, I’ll find the way to bring you back properly but I just don’t know how. Yet.” She never took her eyes from him but this time she didn’t bother trying to reach out for him, even if it meant clenching her hands to fists at her side and digging her nails into her palms to remind herself. Just a dream.

He said nothing, just smiled at her, the teasing look gone from his eye and replaced with something softer and sadder. Instead he flicked his hand, gesturing towards himself in a ‘May I?’ gesture. Frowning slightly she nodded, she couldn’t refuse his help, even if it was only a construct in her mind desperate for his expertise.

With a flourish, Rumple turned on his heel and started walking down the hallway, away from the main staircase. She knew what was down here. It was just a few more empty bedrooms, a closet or two and…

“Your straw room!” Belle said out loud as it came into her head. It was a joke name of course, it was in fact where he kept all the products of his spinning. A room of golden thread. He barely even came into this room himself, if she remembered correctly, when with a flick of his finger he could send all the gold away wherever he pleased. At her exclamation Rumple turned in front of her, a ludicrous wicked grin on his face and gestured onwards with a finger.

She did laugh at his playfulness, it was the lightest she had felt in days and she wasn’t going to let the fact it wasn’t real distract her.However as they approached the door of the least used room in the castle that held the most valuable commodity she started to notice the faint haze in her vision. Shaking her head to clear it only confirmed the fact that Rumple was becoming less distinct. She sped up to walk by his side and turned to look at his face.

“No!” She saw the same expression that had amused her only moments ago fixed in place, like a mask.

He turned to face her at the exclamation and the expression faltered, once again moving as naturally as ever into a look of concern. He stopped and frowned slightly at the fear lingering on her face. Then, in the space of a blink, he seemed to disappear away, dissolving into the air like dust particles scattered by a breeze. Belle shouted out again, calling his name but he was already gone without a trace.

She reached out to the place he had been. It was too soon since she had last lost him for her to be able to take it in. Slowly it filtered back to the more lucid part of her brain that she was just dreaming. She had known it from the beginning. She closed her eyes and opened them, to find she hadn’t moved. She tried again, squeezing them tighter shut and counting to 10.

She pinched herself, jumped up and down and hit the nearby wall with her palm. She was still in the main corridor, with a sore hand, directly outside the door to the straw room. She put out a hand to touch the wood, it was solid. After she had reassured herself of the walls around the door again she felt for the handle and cautiously pushed the door open.

Looking inside, the room was just as she remembered it from the first time she had taken a sneaking look. That had only been because Rumple had told her not to go in there in her first week. So a few weeks later, when most of those other rules had gone out the window she had decided to take a look. Once she had seen what was in there – and had satisfied a question she had been keeping to herself about where all of the gold ended up – she had hastily closed the door. She hadn’t wanted to think about the kind of guards or alarm systems he might have on a room containing such wealth. Of course it hadn’t taken long for her to find out how little he actually valued the gold he spun. Knowing he had a room bursting with it had helped put his attitude into perspective.

She hadn’t had a chance to return to the room; events conspired and besides, while it was more gold than she had ever seen in her life, material wealth wasn’t what intrigued her most in the Dark Castle.

Driven only by the feeling that Rumple must have wanted her to see something in this room, Belle picked her way around the piles of spun gold, all neatly twined into balls just like yarn. This was definitely where the magical balancing of items came into play and Belle didn’t question it, afraid to touch one of the stacks in case that was all it took to send the whole load tumbling to the floor. There were no tables or surfaces to study, the gold was laid floor to ceiling. Instead a number of cabinets set into the wall held collections of assorted items.

After an hour of tedious searching she had found little that she could call useful. It seemed this was where Rumple kept all his meaningless items that he had hung on to for reasons only known to him and Belle was losing hope again. There were pieces of clothing she couldn’t imagine him wearing, an old wooden walking stick and random pieces of crockery. Hidden under some pencils and books of meaningless sketches she found a leather bound book, covered in dust that she blew away and then immediately recoiled to avoid it rebounding into her eyes. The book itself had a plain cover and inside she recognised the scrawled handwriting on the pages to be that made by Rumple’s own hand. It took her a little longer to realise that this font, without the extravagant flourishes she was used to, was much more similar to Gold’s writing in Storybrooke.

Curiosity truly piqued, she flicked back through more pages to find the book was mostly filled with delicately drawn maps, sketches and some paragraphs of text. Her heart skipped a beat when she found herself staring at a faithfully reproduced sketch of the Dark One’s knife and she hastily skimmed to the section of text underneath it.

All it said was a quick summary of the things she already knew about the knife – it shows the original name of the Dark One, killing the Dark One with it would curse the wielder with the power of the knife and the person who holds the knife wields power over the Dark One.

Her mind stuck on the last point written under the picture. At a loss of any other immediate plan of action she closed the book and carried it downstairs with her, back to the spinning room where the knife itself still sat on the table where she had left it earlier that day. She lifted it from the table and stepped away, raising the knife at arm’s length into the air.

“Dark One, by the power of the Blade, I command you to come back to me.” She felt disappointment trickle slowly through her as she felt nothing, no tingling from the knife. No one materialised in a puff of smoke.

Instead she stood alone in the room, watching helplessly as the ‘u’ of the dagger faded out of existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my editor [ArtjuiceRP](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtjuiceRP/)  
> And thank you for the views and kudos  
> Until next time :)


	4. Empty Words

Belle had resumed looking through Rumple’s diary entries, engrossed in the insights it held. As she read she discovered it was a book Rumple had kept as he found out more about the curse he had fallen into. Most of it was in note form, a few scribbles told of the physical changes, things she already knew about. Others held information about his abilities.

Mostly she was shown how much he had enjoyed the power he now held and in those boastful words she saw something quite different even from the man she had first met. He was so proud of his new abilities that he revelled in the suffering he caused.

> _There is a way to change how I look. Zoso could but I haven’t found it yet. He was weak. Why change my appearance when now people know to cower in fear? They are right to be afraid. I am better than those peasants._

There were some sections where there was no legible point to the notes; maybe he had written something as a reminder to himself, possibly as some kind of puzzle he was working on.

As she read she found parts of him she recognised. There were frequent mentions of Bae, keeping him inside, ways to protect him, people who were out to get him. That was earlier in the book and she wondered - as she looked at the frantic scribbles with side notes and footnotes scrawled around each point - how much of it was in fact paranoid illusion. She began to consider the situation from the boy’s point of view.

She knew the story of how Bae had got away from him, left for a different world and Rumple had been too afraid to follow him. She suddenly understood how much losing his son had changed the man. In this book his magic was clearly everything to him and he was excited to describe the discovery of a new ability every time.

However when Belle had known him he had regretted losing Bae more than anything. She knew what he would have given for the chance to go back in time and follow Bae into whatever realm he had travelled to. Hindsight is always better than foresight. That is, until foresight is an actual magical ability.

“Oh Rumple, what a mess.” She sighed and immediately startled when she looked over the top of her book to see the very man on the seat at his spinning wheel, watching her sadly.

“I’m aware.” He gave a subdued impression of his usual snark and she furrowed her brow as she concentrated deeply. She carefully pinched her leg under the table, hard enough to draw a wince. Somewhat convinced that this was no dream, she turned her attention back to Rumple. He glanced at her hand disappearing under the table but he said nothing about it. Still, she had an intense, uncomfortable feeling he knew exactly what she had done.

“As compelling as my sad story of mistakes and regret might be, I doubt that’s where you’re going to find out about the knife.” He said, his voice turning slightly harder, as it often did when he was trying to cover up what he was truly feeling.

She looked back at him steadily, trying to figure him out. He simply waggled his fingers at her in a motion to continue looking through the book.

“What? What am I looking for exactly?” Belle demanded, the stress of the last few days building up to cause her to bite out in frustration.

“It’s been 300 years since I wrote that, I can’t remember everything. Why do you think I needed you to find the book?” He countered quickly and she scowled.

“Is there more on the knife?”

I remember something about it, yes.” She held back a growl at his unhelpfulness as she flicked through the pages faster, looking for a mention of magic or the blade.

She passed over a page of even more illegibly scribbled notes than the rest, embodied by angry jerks of the pen and violent stabs into the page. She could barely read most of the words, only a couple stood out, “ _beans_ ”,  “ _giants_ ” and circled at the bottom of the page was the word “ _fairy_ ”.

She looked up over the book surreptitiously, trying to take another sneaking look at Rumple. She felt a now familiar and no less painful wrench in her chest as she realised there was no figure sat at the wheel.

She turned her gaze back to the book dejectedly and continued skimming for useful information. From what she could see Rumple had already read all of the same books she had been using and apparently he hadn’t been able to get any more relevant information from them than she had.

However, much of the notation focused on facts that were old to Belle but it occurred to her that at the time perhaps it was still all new to Rumple. She tried to picture a younger version of the man she knew, someone less certain of himself. Considering the pages she had read so far, his exploits since his transformation, Belle wondered if any trace of that man had been lost when he had taken up the power of the Dark One.

The sources she recognised began to dry up and she found information now written that seemed to be looking further into the history of the knife than she had contemplated. There was a connected line of names, like a very sad family tree but these were scribbled out after only 2-3 names, always ending with Rumple’s own.

“Still nothing?” Belle jumped, her hand flying to her heart when she heard his tone cut through her concentration once again. She looked at him with fond frustration in her eyes at his pesky ways. He always did love to interrupt her during a good book. “Nothing at all useful? Not to worry if it seems too difficult. We can work out the kinks once we have an actual plan to get kinky.”

“Maybe it would help if I had some idea what I was looking for!” Belle protested, her eyes starting to ache after hours of staring at old text in books. She would have expected to be used to it by now. He had moved to stand behind her chair and now she gestured helplessly to the last section of notes she had read. “Or what half of this meant.”

> _No individual Dark Ones_   
> _Assumed same person - Immortal_   
> _Why the secrecy?_

“Oh yes, my foolish predecessors.” She gave him  a questioning look over her shoulder and quickly inhaled in surprise to find him leaning over her to read, so close to brushing her shoulder that she was momentarily distracted and almost forgot what he was talking about as he continued. “They were too busy being the all powerful Dark One that they thought it would be weak to reveal their original name.”

“And you disagreed, I suppose.” She let her tone comment on his contrary nature, while she shamelessly kept staring at the profile of his face, drinking in the sight as his eyes scanned the page in front of her.

“Well of course. I was powerful, I wanted anyone who’d ever ridiculed me or called me a coward to know it. I wanted them to know what the name Rumplestiltskin meant now.” His triumphant tone shook her attention back to reality - or whatever this was – and she narrowed her eyes.

“So you terrorised them.”

“No, of course not.” He took his eyes from the page and turned to meet hers. “I just let them know that I could.” The mocking shade to his voice didn’t work on her this time and she simply stared straight back at him. He let out a small huff of disappointment and then leaned back. Belle had to stop herself swaying after him, as if pulled by his magnetism.

“What I mean is no one ever knew who the Dark One was, they assumed it was always the same person. So there is no record of how or where each one was made.” He recited all of this in a singsong voice, as if it was something he had gone over many times. “And that makes tracing the origins of the knife and its power somewhat difficult.”

“You were trying to find the source of the knife’s power?” Belle  said, the magnitude of that quest dawning on her.

“Well yes. Surely I mentioned that somewhere in there?”  He said offhandedly. “Anyway, there’ll be something in there that must relate to this” he widely gestured towards himself, “and get me back to normal.”

His flippant approach was beginning to grate on her already strung out nerves so she wasn’t surprised by the barely concealed quake of anger in her voice. “Rumple, your notes are barely legible. If you think I’m going to find a neatly explained spell with a sourced ingredients list, your memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“That’s not what I meant. There’ll be some lore. What did I say about curses?” He responded in kind to her anger.

“Rumple!” She was shocked. “I spent long enough watching you to know that there are consequences I can’t even imagine if I started playing with anything like that.”

“We’re not playing.” He said sharply.

“I want you back like you wouldn’t believe...”

“Then prove it!”

“But I couldn’t just do that!” She met his eyes fiercely and after briefly returning the challenge, he looked down first. Without replying, he pushed away from the table and began moving around the room. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was sulking.

Belle turned back to the book once more, trying to decipher the meaning behind Rumple’s scrawls. When a new section caught her attention she couldn’t help but query him about it.

“You tried to destroy the knife?!” When he looked up at her it suddenly clicked in her mind that he had been lurking for the past ten minutes or so. Rather than just disappearing as he had every other time, Rumple had been stalking around the room, looking through every cabinet along the walls.

“‘Tried’ being the operative word. I didn’t make a scratch. I couldn’t even work out what it was made of.”

She was in the process of asking why he would want to do that when she saw the word scribbled next to the checklist of ways to destroy the knife. “Bae”, she read out loud. “You thought it would make Bae come back?” Her soft question drew a calculating sideways glance before he looked away again, turning to face out of the window.

“Actually I thought if I destroyed it, it might take my power and I would never be able to get him back. That was what stopped me trying before I did something truly catastrophic.” Quietly disapproving, she read on, trying not to think of what he might have used in his attempts to destroy the blade.

She turned the page and recognised the first one that she had opened the book to – the picture of the knife. This time she took in the title above the picture. ‘All magic comes at a price’. This was how Rumple truly felt about the knife.

She looked over to him, now tracing his hands over the spinning wheel. She noticed that he hovered just a few centimetres above it, not making actual contact. She was too scared to contemplate on that.

Somehow, by speaking to him out loud, it was like she had found her Rumple, amidst the pages showing the man he once was. She found it much easier to tune into his train of thought and the notes were much easier to follow. After accepting the knife as his burden, his quick mind had immediately turned to ways of protecting himself, although this was where she lost him again.

“Rumple, you ‘protected’…the knife?” She asked slowly, looking up. He was still there. He turned to her with that grin on his face that meant he thought he was being really clever. Belle privately thought she was probably the only one who could distinguish between his reptilian smirks.

“Of course. If there’s one thing that can kill me, it becomes top of my priorities.” He was still smiling and she rolled her eyes at him, making him elaborate. “Well, I just made it invisible.”

She looked hard at him, trying to figure out the joke. “No…you didn’t.” She glanced at the knife on the table in front of her.

“To magic, dearie. It can’t be summoned so to get it, someone has to pluck it from my hands.” He flourished and the beaming arrogance of it made Belle laugh before the smile dropped from her face just as quickly, shifting instead to a dumbstruck expression.

“Rumple, that’s it!” He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued but clearly not comprehending the answer she had just grasped. “You blocked the knife from magic, so it’s here and you’re…wherever you really are. If you’re trying to come back and this is the connection you need to do it, then all I have to do is reverse whatever magic you have on it!”

She looked at him, waiting for the reaction. He stood staring at her, as if frozen mid-comeback. It took a moment of this until his mind caught up with his mouth and then a single giggling laugh came from him and he steepled his fingers together under his chin.

“Now that might just about do it.” He said, flicking his hands to point back at Belle. She laughed at his ridiculous understatement. She clapped her hands together and the joyful grin lit up her face, splitting her cheeks in two. She jumped in the air and did a little twirl, suddenly feeling lighter than she had in days.

She ran over to Rumple, only just remembering when she was feet away that she couldn’t throw her arms around him, as her instincts told her to do. She wanted to fall into his arms and lean into him, wrapping around him so tightly they both wondered if she would ever let go.

Instead she put her hands out towards him slowly, concentrating. She traced them up over the shape of his arms, down the front of his chest, always keeping the almost tangible void between her skin and him. He reached out as if to grab on to her elbow but stopped just shy of contact. It worked to hold her still though and she looked up to meet his eyes.

“Thank you, Belle.” His gaze softened and the sincere tone his voice had taken on caused a lump in her throat. “I love you so much, you know that.” She nodded, not able to say anything for her sudden fear that her voice might crack. She felt tears pricking at her eyes and she tried as hard as she could to stop them welling up. “You’re the only one who could ever do this for me, the only one who really cares.”

At this she pulled away from his hands hovering over her arms and fixed him with a watery glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course people care.”

“And why would they? What have I ever done for them that they would be sorry to see gone?”

“You saved them! You sacrificed your life for them!” Belle protested but the combination of emotions meant that she lost her battle to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks. This betrayal of her useless emotions only added to her frustration.

“And who do you imagine even knows that version of what happened.”

“What other version is there?”

“One where the big bad villain didn’t play the saviour? People like their views very black and white.” Rumple was far too calm about this while she was just about biting her cheek to keep herself from crying out at him in her aggravation.

“But enough of us saw what happened. They’ll have told everyone what really happened.”

“Did you see them do that? I thought they came back and started celebrating immediately?” Rumple was being harsh. Casting about in her head for an argument, Belle couldn’t make any more of a retort than a simple “No,” breathed out before he continued.

“I can’t imagine that ‘Rumplestiltskin is dead’ wasn’t chanted more than a few times.” He was taunting her cruelly now and she couldn’t understand it.

“Stop it!”

“They don’t need me Belle. They’re happier I’m gone and it’s just the truth.”

“When I get you back I’ll make sure they know what you did. They’ll all know who they owe their freedom to.” She tried to deny that part of the reason she was so angry was due to the nagging feeling that what Rumple was saying could actually be true. There were people out there who genuinely didn’t like him at all and she was aware that many of them probably had good reason not to. “This is such a mess. Why are we even arguing?”

Rumple took a moment to consider his reply and she couldn’t tell by his expression whether he was going to keep fighting or try to smooth things over. However, just at that moment the sound of knocking echoed through the hallway and around their room. Belle jumped at the unexpected intrusion into their little world. Rumple turned to look sharply at the source of the noise.

Regretfully, Belle stepped away from Rumple again and turned towards the door. Hastily she wiped at her eyes, hoping that she wouldn’t have great red circles to expose that she had been crying. She tried to push the argument from her head but she still felt jittery as she jogged down the steps to the entrance hall, mind and limbs buzzing with energy that wanted to be let out.

All of that faded away when she pulled the great wooden door open to reveal Neal standing in front of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading my story this far. I apologise for the delay but i've had a heavy workload to get on with for the past fortnight.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism can only make it better for everyone


	5. Empty Gestures

Chapter 5

“Neal?! What are you doing here?” Belle was too surprised to think of anything more original to say. Neal smiled at her nervously and looked her up and down.

“Hey, um how are you doing?” Under his close scrutiny she felt her default cheerful persona slip into place.

“I’m good, how are you?” It was an automatic response and she knew Neal could immediately tell.

“Managing. Look, I came up to make sure you were okay and I, er, brought some supplies. We weren’t sure what you’d have up here.” At this point he drew her attention to a bag he had slung across his shoulder, bulging with unknown items.

“Thank you. Sorry, come in.” She stepped to the side and put on a smile. “Would you like me to get you anything?” She attempted to fill the silence with more than their footsteps as she led him through the castle towards the kitchen. He stayed behind to close the great front door and so she stepped in to the spinning room ahead of him. There she stopped in shock to see Rumple still stood behind the central table.

Their eyes met then followed each other down to fix on the metal blade on the table in front of him. Belle hurried forwards before Neal caught up. She quickly collected the books spread out across the table into a pile at the side and picked up the knife, hastily tucking it into the folds of her dress where Neal wouldn’t see it. She then looked up again to meet Rumple’s eyes before spinning to face Neal as he walked into the room. She searched his face for any sign of surprise but he only looked around the room with slight trepidation and gave no indication he had noticed his father stood behind her.

“Can I help you put these away?” He suggested and lifted the bag from his shoulder.

“Yes, yes. Through here.” She led him through the halls and they arrived in the kitchen. “You know, you didn’t have to worry yourself about me”. As they put the bag on the table in the middle of the room and emptied it, Belle found herself staring hungrily at the contents. She wasn’t sure when she’d last eaten. Surely it couldn’t be before she left the Royal Palace. How long ago was that? “Erm, did you want anything?” Belle asked Neal again absently, focused on the food.

“Make something for yourself, I don’t mind. We thought maybe there wouldn’t be very much up here for you to eat, since it’d been empty for a while before the curse.” Neal replied easily, almost like he was encouraging her. Without further prompting she began reaching for some of the cold meats and bread and making a selection of foods for herself. Neal didn’t comment when she took the occasional bite of the food as she arranged it on a plate, suddenly finding herself ravenous.

Only when she had heaped a pile of food for herself and sat down at one of the seats in the room with the plate in front of her did she look over to Neal again. He was watching her carefully, that same concerned look she had noticed before on his face. She spoke in the hopes that he would stop.

“What did you mean by “we thought”? Who’s “we”?” She looked up and Neal’s expression hadn’t changed. It irked her.

“Well, those of us back at the castle – Snow White, Charming, everyone. We haven’t heard anything from you since you disappeared as soon as you could get away, you didn’t reply to the messenger bird…”

“What messenger bird?” As far as Belle was aware, she had spent all her time downstairs in the front room and had seen no such thing.

“Well it was only yesterday but you know what Mary Margaret can be like.” He tried to make light of it and laughed a little but Belle still felt his steady gaze when she looked up briefly to see the strained attempt at a smile fade from his face. She looked away again quickly with a guilty feeling when she realised it must have come while she was asleep through the day. Trying to pass it off naturally she asked him calmly,

“So, what time is it?”

“Just early afternoon.” About when she had dragged herself to bed yesterday in her exhaustion. She went back to concentrating on her food; she could almost believe it was already restoring her energy. Just as she took another bite of food she almost choked when she heard something brush into the room through the door behind her and she knew immediately what – who – it had to be.

Still spluttering, she jumped from her seat and ran to fill a glass with water and after swallowing a gulp or two, turning at the sink, to look back at the two of them. Neal had half risen out of his chair, Rumple had placed himself nonchalantly between the two chairs they had occupied. He silently gestured for her to retake her place.

“Belle, are you sure you’re okay?” Neal said, only retaking his seat once she had cautiously walked back to her own. She nodded slowly, trying not to let her eyes wander to Rumple.

“Oh please, don’t mind me. Just go on as if I weren’t here.” Rumple chipped in. Neal raised his eyebrows.

“We were worried about you Belle. We didn’t think this is where you should be, not all alone up here in this castle.”

“I’m fine, really.” Rumple had pulled an offended pose as Neal said the word ‘alone’. Belle ignored him.

“I miss him too, I understand. I was only just getting to know him again, the man you made him into. But you shouldn’t lock yourself away.”

She bristled at the idea of being locked up. “No, this is exactly where I should be.” She paused to consider but then, against her best judgement she forged on, without looking at Rumple who now lurked on the other side of Neal. “What does everyone back down there think happened?”

“Happened? With the curse?” Belle suspected Neal was deliberately putting off answering her, he knew exactly what she was asking.

“To Pan. And Rumple.”

“They saw what happened.”

“I mean what does everyone _else_ think?” She pushed, truly suspicious now.

“Well, er…” He looked away. Over the shoulder where Rumple now stood, watching him. “They haven’t really discussed it mostly. They’re just happy we weren’t cursed again, and that we’re back home.”

“And you’re not telling them? You won’t let people know that your father sacrificed his life to save them?” Neal looked uneasy now, while Rumple watched with hard eyes, listening to what Neal had to say.

“To be honest, I don’t think they’d listen.” Neal said so quietly Belle almost missed it.

“Well they won’t if they can’t hear you.” Rumple broke his uncharacteristic silence, the only reason Belle caught what Neal had said.

“It’s not that easy. I mean, they wouldn’t understand half of it.”

“Understand?! Understand what? That’s he’s actually a good man? That he’s not just the villain they all think he is?”

“The villain _he_ thought he was.” Belle knew Neal was thinking along the same lines as her, Rumple’s final words cast a dark shadow in the room. Rumple, who had been walking back towards Belle, stopped and turned to look back at his son.

“ You know, he really didn’t have friends.” Neal continued as if he could brush over the thick silence.

Rumple scoffed. “What makes you say that?” He seemed out of tone with the ugly atmosphere.

“And the whole family tree thing, it’s kept pretty quiet. Only people who need to be told know about it at all.”

“Can’t pollute the good name of the royal family.” Rumple went on and Belle was gritting her teeth to keep from admonishing him as well.

“And apart from the fact that’s ridiculous, why does that even matter? They don’t know why Rumple would save us? Is that it?”

“Evil Mr Gold, Henry’s dear old grandpa.” Belle flicked her eyes over to see Rumple leaning nonchalantly against the countertop next to her.

“If they just knew the truth...” Belle spoke over him and looked back to Neal.

“And what I’m trying to tell you is that people don’t want to hear it. Grandpa Gold just doesn’t fit their image of him.”

“Then they don’t know the real image.”

“It’s no use Bae.” Rumple spoke quite sincerely to his son.

“Who did with him?” Neal retorted, then pulled himself back. “Most people, they like to see things very black and white. Like any fairy story.”

“Oh don’t you start too.” Belle raised her voice, feeling outnumbered and overwhelmed.

“Start…what? Belle?” That worried tone was back in Neal’s voice, like he was walking on eggshells around her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t treat her like that if I were you.” Rumple sounded suspiciously like he was having far too much fun.

“I don’t need protecting. You don’t have to act like I could shatter at any moment.” She snapped at them both and Neal raised his hands in front of him, a sign of peace.

“I’m sorry, I really just came to see how you were. I didn’t mean to upset you more.”

“Uh-oh.” Rumple tittered beside her.

“I…I mean, you didn’t want to hear any of that.” He quickly tried to backtrack. “I’m just getting it off my chest, really.”

“Then…”

“Don’t Belle, if you won’t see what the rest of the kingdom want to think I can’t make you.”

“No. You can’t. And you can’t make me come back to the palace with you.” She knew what he had been about to say  and felt a thrill of victory when she saw Neal bite back his tongue, looking put out.

“Belle, it’s more sense than being stuck up here on your own in his empty castle.” Neal tried to be diplomatic but Belle was frustrated by his wilful ignorance of her point of view, just as she was apparently being ignorant of the common opinion of Rumple.

“This was my home too. I need to be with him!” She retorted without thinking.

“With him? Belle… he’s gone.” Neal’s voice quickly dropped from caring to concern for her sanity. “Look, I really think you need to come back down to the Royal Castle.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m worried, it’s really not healthy for you.”

“Not healthy to what, still have hope?”

“That’s not hope, it’s delusion, Belle. He’s dead!”

“I know that. I’m not deluded. I just know I can still get to him.”

Neal turned pale and looked honestly scared for the first time. Belle was too defensive to feel bad about that, she felt he had goaded her to blurting out more than she had meant to.

“Belle, stop. Listen to yourself!” He reached out for her, managing to take a hold of her arm and pulling her to face him. She stared at him, slightly stunned and was gathering herself up to shake herself free of him. At the same time Rumple made a feral noise, almost like a growl. Neal’s grip shot open and he pulled his hand back, as if electrocuted.

Belle looked at him, struck with confusion but he carried on as if nothing unusual had happened. He did seemed more hesitant to lay his hands on her.

She knew she had said too much and was wary of what Neal might try to say or do now.

“You’ve got to let him go.” Neal pleaded.

“Well thanks for your faith in me. And in Belle.” Rumple would not be dissuaded from commenting, if Belle waved at him to stop Neal would see and only grow more worried.

“I can’t do that.” Belle replied simply and Neal exclaimed in a noise of irritation.

“Oh man. I didn’t see it before but wow. You are just as stubborn as he was.”

“I’m just not giving up on him yet. Because maybe I’m not so ready to just give up on him like you were!”

“Stubborn, foolish…! You can’t see anything that’s not about you. No wonder you were such a good match.” Neal spat back at her. Rumple was staying silent but his face looked dark enough that Belle was surprised Neal couldn’t sense the malevolence radiating from his corner of the room. His reaction gave Belle strength, as he was there actually backing her up.

“Get out!  Get out!” She shouted. Neal didn’t waste any time in getting to his feet and stepping towards the door of the kitchen.

“I don’t know why I even came. You’re way beyond anyone’s help now. He really must have pulled some tricks on you.” Neal easily retraced the route they had come in by.

“OUT!” She yelled. She could almost feel the magic radiating out of Rumple, crackling in the air around her as he stuck by her side and she breathed it in, taking its strength for her resolve.

Neal had reached the entrance hall by now. He had stormed through the spinning room without a second glance at the pile of books on the table, which in his current state of mind was probably a good thing. He pulled the heavy oak door open but before leaving he turned to her and spat out with all the venom he could muster

“You know, I just keep seeing more and more evidence of people’s lives that my father ruined. Obviously he never changed. I’m sorry for what he did to you Belle – however he weaselled his way into your head. Everyone else is probably happier he’s gone and times like these, I think maybe they could be right.”

The words hit Belle like a brick wall and she shivered in horror at the way they  cruelly echoed his father. It was too much as the two voices in her head seemed to merge together, scornful of the one thing she truly believed in. She felt the tight clench of anger in her gut as Rumple stood defensively beside her, bristling with intangible power, a breathing image of the rage she felt.

She reached for him without thinking, his hand always a source of comfort she centred herself in. Before Neal had had time to properly turn and leave, an animalistic noise of raw fury burst from her, directed at the glowering shadow in her doorway. At the same time a thrill of energy ran through her entire body.

He was thrown from the top step. He let out a startled yelp and flung his arms out but with nothing to grab on to, he flew gracelessly from the portico, landing heavily on his side. He started scrambling to his feet quickly but this was all Belle needed to be certain that he was not damaged. She slammed the door shut and turned from her spot in the middle of the entrance hall, returning to the spinning room.

She was breathing heavily and felt a strange tingling, almost like the ripples of the shockwave she had felt before. The anger was still there too. She paced up and down the length of the table, completely unable to stay still. By the time she had reached the opposite end there was a knocking on the door. It sounded frantic.

She ignored it.

He kept knocking and shouting her name for a few minutes but he wasn’t getting anywhere. It went quiet and Belle continued circling the room restlessly. Then she heard a much closer tapping and Neal was stood at one of the windows of the long room. He looked pleading when she met his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Belle! Talk to me!” She didn’t say anything in reply but she walked towards him and he nodded encouragingly. “Belle, I was angry. Let me in. I just want to talk.” She reached the window and looked down at him standing in the bare soil outside the window. “I’m not trying to make you do anything you don’t want to. Please!” That was definite panic in his voice. She tilted her head slightly, curious to hear it but for some reason felt like it meant nothing to her. Then she reached for the curtain and pulled it shut between them.

“No, Belle!” She heard scuffling and quickly walked to repeat the action at the next curtain, and the next until all the light was blocked from the room.

Once she had finished this and she was in darkness the feeling that had been filling her with strength suddenly left. She stumbled and heard Neal’s distressed cries as if they penetrated the fog of her mind for the first time. She shook her head to clear it and couldn’t imagine facing him. She wanted to run. She retreated to the interior of the castle, where the sounds from outside couldn’t penetrate. When there were several closed doors behind her she finally stopped walking and sank to the floor at the foot of a narrow staircase, somewhere in what might have been a servants’ quarters.

“What did I do?” Her voice was almost a sob, her entire body felt like something had just vacated it and left her behind, hollowed out.

Rumple was stood in the small space with her. She didn’t remember him following her through the house but she knew he would be here now. She didn’t look at him, instead bowing her head to stare at her hands. They seemed completely foreign to her. They were shaking, she realised her whole body was.

“What did you do?” She choked out. Everything felt wrong, like she was somehow separated from her body.

Rumple’s scaled hands came into her narrow line of vision, cupped on either side of her own. Somehow it was like he was enclosing her hands, holding her together. It gave her a focus and the world around her started to feel more solid. She didn’t feel ready to look away from her hands yet.

“Bae! Rumple, he’s your son! I don’t understand what happened!” She pulled her hands back and started heaving in breaths but she wasn’t getting any air. She put her hands out against the walls around her. Were they getting closer?

“Belle!” Rumple’s voice cut through her daze and she snapped her eyes up to look at him, his face just inches from hers and his fierce gaze fixing her in place. “I did nothing. And you know that.” She focused on his familiar, captivating eyes.

She was still breathing heavily but his intensity drew her in, drew away her fear and left her with a steady calmness. She let his voice guide her to the answer. “I...did it? Me? But that was magic. That’s not me?” She tried to pull away but couldn’t bring herself to move.

“You did the right thing. ” Rumple soothed.

“But I don’t know how.”

“Magic isn’t thinking, Dearie. If you have it in you, it can appear at the strangest of times.”

“But if I did that…” she stopped, struggling to make sense of the new revelation. “I could have hurt him. I could have killed him!” She felt the panic threatening to engulf her once more, she didn’t want to go but the weight of horror dragged her down.

“You had no other choice. You couldn’t control it.”

“Then it’s even more dangerous!”

“With your passion, it’s even more potent.”

She shifted then, leaning away from him to see his face and jerked back when she felt something uncomfortable. Reaching beneath her, she pulled the dagger from the folds of cloth. She had forgotten about its hiding place in her skirt, neatly fixed under her belt.

She was glad of whatever protective impulse had caused her to conceal it from Neal. He might have tried to steal it, to take it for himself.

“Who knows what he might have done if you hadn’t got rid of him.” Rumple said offhandedly. She closed her eyes, put a hand to his chest and concentrated,  trying to feel something, any crackle of his powerful aura. He looked down and placed his free hand over hers.

“I’m proud of you. My powerful Belle.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i actually finished writing this the night before i left the country...and then i left the country. So i had to edit it after i got back from a field trip in Spain
> 
> But ooh, things getting a little bit darker. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As a slight disclaimer: I do actually like Neal, I just see that he is pretty bad at dealing with emotions and he's had a lot to go through. He tends to get angry and that's just him. So please don't hate him (or me), I tried to be true to his character
> 
> And i am coming back to this, i just need a couple of weeks to do my exams, then i'll be back to finish the story

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story for this fandom and if all goes to plan i'll be able to finish it by the time we get season 3B. I hope you enjoyed and it would greatly boost my writing speed if you prodded me to go faster  
> Big thanks to my beta [artjuiceRP](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtjuiceRP/) and i will shamelessly plug her CaptainSwan AU here.  
> Thanks for reading! Hope you stick around for more


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